Ghosts
by divine-firefly
Summary: I was in love once in my existence–once. I was in love with you Does it hurt you to hear that? It hurts me to say it, but I’ll say it. I’m not beyond you enough to not want to feel I’m important enough to cause you pain. I loved you, Kunzite."


Ghosts  
  
"I came to say goodbye."  
  
Her voice was soft, almost echoing through the empty room. He watched her in the mirror, watched her teeth slide over her lower lip, watched the blood rush into it and make it a bright gash across her face. He could tell she was watching his reflection as well, sunglasses compounding the shadows that already cloaked the pictures. For a moment he wished he could see her eyes, but the thought left him as soon as it came. He already knew what he could see her. He had seen it many times.  
  
"I thought you'd already done a good enough job of that."  
  
He watched her gaze travel to the note he had stuck along the rim of the mirror, her own loopy script spelling out two definitive words–Stop, Kunzite. In the reflection, he could see her blush. At least she had the good graces to be embarassed.  
  
"I had to–I'm sor–I just wanted..."  
  
"What?" He turned to her, and she was shocked by the anger in his eyes. "You wanted closure, so you could put this whole thing behind you and forget about me?" He took a step closer, she did not move away. "You know what, Minako? I don't want you to. I want you to remember me. I want you to wake up every night and feel lonely because nothing will compare to what we had–don't tell me it won't. I want you to regret this decision for the rest of your life." His voice was steady and level, his hands clenched by his side. Now he wanted to rip the glasses of her face, to see the hurt in her eyes, because the sight of that would make this real for him, make this dreamy encounter real.  
  
She swallowed, the veins in her throat bobbing up and down. Her tongue darted out and moistened the corners of her lips. He stared at her mouth for a long time, before it moved, and she spoke.  
  
"Do you think I don't remember? Is that what you think?"  
  
He turned his back on her again, facing away from the mirror. She couldn't see him close his eyes in the agony those words cost him. No, darling, no I don't. Let's forget about this. It's just another stupid fight. Forget about it, and come back to me.  
  
He wondered why speaking to her had always been so hard to him.  
  
"Kunzite, don't you dare suggest that. Don't think it, not for one moment. If you don't want to face me, that's fine, I'll clear things up here and now if I have to. I was in love once in my existence–once. I was in love with you! Does it hurt you to hear that? It hurts me to say it, but I'll say it. I'm not beyond you enough to not want to feel I'm important enough to cause you pain. I loved you, Kunzite."  
  
He gasped. It was the sound one makes before tears. "Loved?"  
  
She had moved around him, now she stood in front of him. He saw her feet, stared at them. He didn't ever want to see anything but her feet. I could stand here forever, he thought dully, because I'm so in love with just these scant inches of her.  
  
He felt her hand, it reached up to the side of his face and tucked long strands of silver hair behind his ear. He looked up at her, and saw her eyes. They shone with tears, and he remembered the look in them.  
  
He smiled. "One day, you came to me looking just as you do now, and tried to explain again and again just how you'd managed to drop that pendant I gave you into the lake. I remember wondering why you thought I'd be angry, and I tried to tell you I wasn't, only you wouldn't stop long enough to let me."  
  
She smiled, too, and it was a shaky expression, it didn't last. "You look–so pale, Kunzite. So washed out. You hardly look alive. I would think you dead, except for the skin. I always wondered why you could tan so much better than I."  
  
He looked at her, pale and trembling, in a long white dress and white heels, and thought she was the one that was dead–or might as well be. She was, he realized dully, very far away from him.  
  
"Kunzite, I was so happy to see you, at that first show. I jumped up and down in my room like a little girl. Only you didn't come talk to me, just sent in the pictures to that magazine. They were wonderful pictures. I have one. Is that vanity?"  
  
"I think not."  
  
"Well, anyway, you need to let me go. You can't keep stalking me, and I do think it is stalking by now. You need to move on. I have already. I mean–I love you. It isn't loved, you're right. I'm still as in love with you as when you swept me off my feet, a lifetime ago. But I can't–don't you see? I can't! Don't tell me these are excuses, they're not. I have a duty. I have to protect the princess. Last time–" she seemed to be having trouble talking. He didn't really notice. His whole mind felt numb. "–last time you threatened that duty. I don't–I can't endanger her."  
  
"Is she more to you than yourself?" He almost wondered if it was really him speaking.  
  
"She's more to me than anything."  
  
And Minako turned to leave him. Again.  
  
At the door, she turned back. "Goodbye."  
  
He stared at her for a moment, refusing to return the farewell. "You really look lovely, darling."  
  
Her eyes closed, in a pain similar to his. He could almost see it tearing her apart. "Thank you."  
  
And she was gone–leaving him with illusions, memories, and ghosts.  
  
End  
  
a.n. last post by me for the next week. Chapter six of the contract is up, but I won't be able to even start chapter seven until next Monday. Enjoy this. 


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